


How Did We End Up Here?

by mggislife2789



Category: Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Spencer and the reader are going through a difficult time in their marriage.Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	

You couldn’t believe that you’d ended up here. The last thing you thought on the day you married the love of your life was that you’d consider divorcing him. You’d been together for five years and at the beginning he’d always confided in you. No matter what. But not anymore.

You didn’t blame him - at least not wholly. His job was extremely taxing and he didn’t want to bring you down with him, but for nearly a year now, every time he returned from a particularly difficult case, he’d isolate himself. He’d become snarky and curt with you, which was so unlike him. And now this.

Spencer looked up from his book. He was trying to distract himself from fighting with you again. But this had to happen. “Y/N, you know the trials of my job. The things I see on a daily basis...they take a toll.” He looked exasperated, like he couldn’t understand why you were having this fight again. “I just need to work through things on my own. I refuse to take you down with me. That’s all.”

“Don’t lie to me Spencer!” you screamed, on the verge of tears.

That caught him off guard - you never called him Spencer. Ever. Since the day you’d met, you called him Spence. You were always one to give people nicknames, so calling him Spencer was out of the norm - and he didn’t know how to react to that.

“I’m not lying,” Spencer insisted, closing his book and standing up from the couch.

“Oh really?” you hollered, walking to the table where you’d left your bag. “Then what the hell is this?”

In your hand were two bottles of dilauded - the drug that nearly ruined his job, his relationships and his life once before. The one nearly empty container indicated what his face confirmed. “You’re using again!” He looked defeated, ashamed, disappointed...and terrified. “You are using drugs again instead of talking to me - your wife!”

He tried to grab the bottles from your hand, but your reflexes were quick and you snatched them from his grasp. 

“I told you, Y/N,” he cracked, “I don’t want to share the images in my head with you. My perfect ray of sunshine. They’ve changed me...” He looked down and began to cry, his lip quivering. “I couldn’t bear it if the things I came across every day changed you too. I can’t do that to you.”

The hot tears stung your face and the waterfall behind your eyes blurred your vision. Your husband, the love of your life, had changed so much over the past few years. “That’s what I’m here for Spencer,” you sobbed, blinking repeatedly to allow the tears to fall, “I’m your wife.” You walked across the room and placed your hands on his chest, trying in any way you could to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation. “We took each other for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. This is no exception. I’m here to bear the burden with you - not so you can turn to drugs and shut me out.”

Spencer looked at you apologetically, but slightly defiant. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you too much to do that to you.”

Was he actually saying that he would continue to use drugs to cope rather than talk to you? “Then I don’t know what we’re going to do, Spence. I love you too much to watch you kill yourself slowly.”

You turned on your heels and headed toward the bedroom, desperately hoping that sleep would help you clear your mind, but it evaded you. No matter what position you slept in, whether the lights were on or off, or what clothes you were wearing, you couldn’t sleep. Spencer fell asleep on the couch around midnight.

The next morning you woke to find Spencer had already left for work. You meant what you said the night before - you couldn’t watch Spencer kill himself. Picking up the phone, you decided to take off of work for the day to collect your thoughts. Your mother was always great at helping you sort yourself out, so after calling your job, you called her and asked if you could meet for lunch.

After talking to your mother for three hours, you knew what you had to do - no matter how much it hurt you. As you sat down at your desk at home after returning from your visit with your mother, you began to sob again, writing...

***

My beloved husband,

I meant what I said last night. I love you more than anyone else in this entire world and the thought of you being hooked on dilauded again is more than I can bear. You call me your perfect ray of sunshine - but this is dimming my light and I can’t allow it to be snuffed out. 

You need to get off the drugs again and we need to find a way to talk to each other the way we used to. There was a time we told each other everything, and I’m desperate to get back to that place. I also meant what I said when I said I am here to bear the burden with you. All I ask is that you allow me to do so. If you can’t, I don’t think we can stay married anymore. I’ll be forced to file for divorce and that’s the last thing I want for us. I imagined us raising a family and growing old together. How did we end up here?

The man I fell in love with is still in there, I know it. And I feel like he is trying to ask for help. Please let me help him.

With all my love,

Y/N

***

The tears, which were flowing freely as you wrote, stained the handwritten note as you folded it in half and put it in an envelope. You left it on the desk as you went to the bathroom to put makeup on, trying desperately to make it look like you weren’t nearly dead inside. On the way out of the apartment, you grabbed the note and put it in your bag. You weren’t ready, but you had to be. 

Nearly 15 minutes later, you walked into the BAU and found Anderson, asking where your husband was. He pointed you toward Hotch’s office.  
As you walked over, Hotch caught your eye and you faked a smile, wishing you weren’t doing what you were doing. And Hotch knew. If he didn’t know, he would soon. He was an amazing profiler after all. He immediately welcomed you in and excused himself when you asked to borrow your husband.  
Behind closed doors, Spencer finally spoke. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” The shakiness in his voice betraying his anxiety.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, “and I meant what I said last night. I love you, but I can’t stand by while you destroy yourself.” You reached into your bag, bringing out the handwritten note and handing it over, hoping that its contents would get through to him. “You need to decide. It’s me or the drugs. I hope you choose me.” With that, you grabbed his chin in your hands and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “For better or for worse, remember?”

You walked out of the office with a heavy heart, but a clear mind. You knew you had to do this - for yourself, as well as him. As you passed Hotch and the rest of the team, you waved shyly, not realizing the tear rolling down your cheek until you reached the elevator. You wondered if the image of a forlorn Spencer standing alone in Hotch’s office was the last image of him you were going to see.


End file.
